So Far
by raymund
Summary: I was scared when I hit you. They say you went into a coma immediately, but you didn't. I saw you under the bumper with blood pooling around you. You were looking at me, right into my eyes, just as if to ask, 'why'. Murdoc's POV. Many warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

So Far

**Hey everyone, I'm back with another Gorillaz story, all from Murdoc's POV! It's basically my take on the story so far with some extras thrown in.**

**WARNING: This story contains:- Male/Male, Minor, Self-harm, Eating disorders, drunkenness, sex and a lot of swearing. You have been warned.**

**Also, I haven't read back on this story at all, so I'm sorry if it sucks. It was pretty much all written in college so I guess it depended on what mood I was in when I wrote it what it comes out like.**

**Anyways, Gorillaz are property of Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett, respectively.**

To put it bluntly, you were everything I wanted to be and more, you little shit. I mean, you didn't possess the brains and wit I had, but there was always something about you that attracted people, and I don't mean just your looks. Not that you aren't good-looking. I'd fuck you (again), but you were 19; life was just starting for you. Until I hit you with my car, that is.

I've heard you were an air-head back then too; once a dullard always a fucking dullard apparently. Either way, you picked the wrong day to work because I slammed my car into your head (well, your eye- you fall over a lot; can you even see?). Granted, I made your life after that, but it's the principle. I'm not sure you would've wanted to be hit with a car.

I was scared when I hit you. They say you went into a coma immediately, but you didn't. I saw you under the bumper with blood pooling around you. You were looking at me, right into my eyes, just as if to ask, 'why?'

I'll never admit this to you, but I did enjoy looking after you, even when I had to wheel you into the bar with me, or when I had to reinsert your IV after pushing you down the stairs. I looked after you though; I bathed you, took you on walks. I even talked to you after a while. I don't think you heard me. If you did, you've hidden it really well so far. I told you everything; about my abusive childhood, my days at school and even about my ex girlfriends- the ones I remember.

It was nice, you know, having someone that wouldn't judge me when I decided to enter the confession booth. But of course that was all put to an abrupt end when I decided we would go out for a drive that night. It all started off innocently enough I suppose. Okay, I'd forgotten to put your seatbelt on that night but you should really thank me for that, sort of.

Anyways, there were those hot girls, yadda yadda, I did a sweet turn and you were flung out of the windscreen. I've said it before and I'll say it again-, "Whoops". You were just lying there all tangled in your own limbs. I could feel the familiar feeling of dread coursing through me, and then you stood up! I couldn't believe it; I was free! But I was alone again. I staggered out into the pissing down rain- the girls had fled by then.

I almost recoiled when you looked at me with those fractured eyes of yours. Blood was pouring out of the newly fucked up one but you didn't even make an effort to wipe it away. You just stared at me with the same look as in the organ shop, before your eyes squinted and you asked, "Haven't I seen you before somewhere?" before passing out again.

When you woke up in the hospital the following morning (it was 4:52 am), I was the first person you saw. You probably wouldn't remember that either- you were pretty heavily sedated. I'll never forget the heavy bruising on your face. It made you look downright... beautiful. Maybe that's why I enjoy giving you so many bruises now.

Anyways, I phoned your mum for you and you gibbered down the phone to her that you were fine and that it must've been a Tuesday because you hate them so much. And guess who it was afterwards who had to explain that it was in fact a Saturday and you'd missed a year of your life. You should've seen your face! It would've been hysterical if you hadn't looked so fucking heartbroken.

A couple of days later I came to see you after taking a pretty overdue beating off your dad and a screaming match with your mum (who scares the shit out of me). Your bruises had begun to fade by then and you were sat there with a keyboard in your lap and a mirror held up to your face, squinting slightly and frowning. You'd looked up at me holding the same frown; I hadn't seen you smile yet. Your eyes filled up and you whispered, "My teeth have come out and I have no eyes. No one's ever gonna love me now."

I'd climbed in the bed behind you so your head was rested on my chest and I'd let you cry. God, you cried for hours. The nurses thought we were an item so they let me stay overnight. I remember telling you I'd fuck you and you laughed. I'd never tell you this, but you're fucking adorable when you laugh. I'd enquired about the keyboard and you played me a little something you'd just thought of. I nearly pissed myself when that angelic voice came out of your mouth. "Hey kid, how'd you like to be in a band?"

**So, is it as crap as it seems to me? :P Reviews, flames and writing tips are all much appreciated! Thanks :D**


	2. Chapter 2

So Far

**Okay, chapter two. I'm not really sure what to say here, except that I still haven't read through this story. I forgot to mention, but if there are any spelling mistakes, feel free to alert me on them. Heaven knows I should pay more attention to what I'm writing, but it was all written on a Blackberry phone so my fingers are known to slip on the keys.**

**WARNING: This story contains:- Male/Male, Minor, Self-harm, Eating disorders, drunkenness, sex and a lot of swearing. You have been warned.**

**Also, I haven't read back on this story at all, so I'm sorry if it sucks. It was pretty much all written in college so I guess it depended on what mood I was in when I wrote it what it comes out like.**

**Anyways, Gorillaz are property of Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett, respectively.**

It took more to persuade your bloody parents to let you go than you. I suppose you figured you had nothing to lose now you were jobless with no prospects. Eventually you managed to sway them by saying you were 19- err, 20 and legally an adult. Plus, I had taken care of you for only a year. Technically my community service sentence hadn't ended yet.

We were lucky to get KONG, you know. Well, for free anyway. Okay, so no one wanted it but we never really minded the zombies. Now all we needed was a drummer and guitarist.

Can you remember about a month before we flew to New York? When I told you the plan you completely blew a gasket and you were admitted into a ward for 3 weeks. The last thing you said to me was, "Get me out!", and I did- it was fantastic! It was a really good laugh, busting you out, straightjacket and all. Anyway, you agreed to my plan and we popped off and got Russell. It was pretty easy actually. It was even easier persuading him to join the band.

God, when that crate turned up three weeks later. You were sat on top of it when Russ opened it up and out sprung little Noodle. You fell off the top of the box and knocked yourself out (fucking idiot). It was funny, when you came to you were laid on the sofa and Noodle had curled herself up with you. Of course, Russell had kicked up a fuss, playing daddy, but he left it after, thankfully.

Things were good after that. Noodle picked up English really well and we pumped out our first album. Saturdays were my favourite after that. Noodle was about 12 and every Saturday at around 8 pm you'd knock on my beloved Winnebago and we'd get absolutely off our faces on whatever I could find that week. Then we'd fuck... like rabbits. The next morning you'd stagger back to your room for more sleep. Saturdays were the best.

Then Noodle turned 13, and so did her body. She was still somewhat of a tomboy but she was beginning to develop, and didn't we know it. She was always well-behaved. None of that hormonal crap, but I always knew there was something between you two; the late night movie nights, the long secret chats and the unmistakable noise of bare feet padding along the corridor from her room to yours. Russell didn't notice for a while, but I did. You took more beatings off me then than ever. I was horribly jealous, but not of you. Saturday nights with me had been replaced with video game with Noodle nights. Not even the drugs, booze and hookers could clear the bitter taste of jealousy. I had to do something about it.

Russell was informed of your and Noodle's situation and you were put into hospital for 6 weeks. Oh God, the bruises you had were delicious. Of course, Noodle was distraught. Who was going to fuck her now? I'd never thought it would actually be love. I fucked that one up for you, didn't I?

So the El Mañana shoot came about and Noodle had decided to save your sorry arse and go to the Maldives for a while. Little did she know that would go a bit wrong and she'd end up down in Hell. I still see your face in my nightmares sometimes. I'd never seen you look so broken. Russ disappeared off to America shortly after and we were left alone together again. It's not like I didn't go looking for her, you know I did. I locked you in your room while I was gone. You never fucking ate properly anyway. I figured you wouldn't mind a few days without food.

The night of your first suicide attempt you came to my Winne. I'd began to strip you off, ready to give you what you needed when I froze, my blood turning cold. Scars. Scars littering your arms- I hadn't given you them, and I definitely hadn't given you the fresh ones with the scabs ripped off. Prolonged healing; self-harm. You were hurting yourself, even when you were hurting so much already. I hit you so hard blood shot out of your mouth. I cracked your ribs and broke your left arm. You said nothing during my whole attack, but when I was finished the tears began to pour out of your eyes. Thick salty ones, then the desperate sobs started. I picked you up onto the bed and finished stripping you down. I made love to you that night. I know you wanted me to go hard and fast, to replace the pain, but I wouldn't.

When we were done I told you to get out, and you did. I came to your room an hour or so later to apologise (weird for me, I know), but I didn't get the chance. There you were lying on your bed with a stomach full of those stupid painkillers you insist on taking even now. I'd panicked, and completely forgot to call an ambulance or anything. Frantic, I put a pair of gloves on and rushed you to the toilet before shoving my fingers down your throat. You didn't throw up much though, I suppose you hadn't really eaten properly that day; you never did. I could've sworn you were anorexic, you idiot.

Eventually I remembered to grab a phone and call an ambulance. The most obvious thing to do and I'd completely forgotten to do it. It's a good thing I remembered though, if I lost you, fuck, I don't know what I'd do. Anyways, the pills hadn't gone too far into your system and they pumped the remaining ones out. I bet that must've been painful when you woke up. And again, who was the first face you saw? Mine, of course. Why is it that I'm always the one who picks you up when you fall?

And of course, you cried when you woke up. Bitter disappointment to still be alive I suppose, and for once I actually felt sorry for you right there. All you wanted to do was to get away and I even messed that up for you. I'd not seen you that angry since I slept with that bitch, what was her name? Oh, Paula. Either way, I'd never been very good at those pep-talk things so I just sat there like a brick. Eventually you fell asleep again but I didn't leave. They discharged you the next day so I flew you out to that shitty little apartment you bought in Beirut years ago when we went for a holiday. You insisted you'd be fine alone for a while and you promised you'd phone me every day. You held up on your promise for a while, but eventually you just stopped speaking.

**I wasn't entirely sure where to end this chapter, but I think this is a pretty sufficient place... As always, reviews, comments, flames, tips and anything else is really appreciated. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

So Far

**Last chapter now! I believe this might be the longest one, but I'm not sure. Either way, thanks for reading and everything. I really appreciate all of it!**

**WARNING: This story contains:- Male/Male, Minor, Self-harm, Eating disorders, drunkenness, sex and a lot of swearing. You have been warned.**

**Also, I haven't read back on this story at all, so I'm sorry if it sucks. It was pretty much all written in college so I guess it depended on what mood I was in when I wrote it what it comes out like.**

**Anyways, Gorillaz are property of Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett, respectively.**

While you were gone I was a busy little Muds. While you were away doing nothing with your life I was coming up with another brilliant master plan. As you now know I burned down KONG and used the insurance to build my new palace, Plastic Beach. Next I had to get my band back. I tried to get a hold of Russell first but I couldn't get through to his phone or anything, and I knew Noodle wasn't coming back anytime soon, if ever, which left you. Luckily I knew exactly where you were. So I snuck to your shoddy apartment and gassed you. When I came in to get you, you were leaning against the window. A small trail of blood was running down the window from your head and I smiled. Things would be back to normal.

Little did you know when you woke up on Plastic Beach that would be the last time you saw the outside for a long, long time. Of course you agreed to record my album with a little coaxing. Your head must've hurt for the two months I confiscated your painkillers. You were a lot stronger than I thought, but things must've got too hard on you. As soon as you said you'd record my album, up to the studio you went and I made you pump out three songs before I'd give you one pill. It was beautiful though, when you sang On Melancholy Hill and Broken you actually sounded, well... _broken_. Still, you perked up after I gave you some meds and I let you go to sleep it off. When I showed you the android though- that was hysterical... for me. Your eyes went all wide and you just fell backwards. The colour had come back to your face slightly by the time I'd gotten you to your bed. _Fainting _though! You're such a girl. After that you sort of calmed down around her. I saw the way you glared at both me and Cyber Noodle though. You had to admit though, the likeness was fantastic. Who knew I was an engineering genius?

When the time to release Stylo came around you'd decided you'd apparently 'had enough' again and tried to off yourself, this time by cutting your wrist. To this day you're adament it was an accident but I don't believe you, of course. What will it be next, Stu? Hanging? God, you can be annoying. Anyway, it's a good thing I was able to patch you up like I did, or the video would have been delayed. I beat shit into you for the whole thing. How dare you fuck up Plastic Beach for me, for us!

After that you kind of just shut down. It was nice at first. I had all that peace and quiet! Well, it wasn't much different to normal at first, but then I figured you were probably planning something, so checks were inforced- every 15 minutes. Eventually I'd just sit in with you for hours of glorious silence. You weren't even playing music anymore.

Soon, I saw something out on the ocean I wasn't expecting at all. There was this massive brown dome. It didn't seem to be moving until I realised it was, in fact moving- and faster than I thought. I decided not to tell you about it. You'd probably have freaked out about a whale or something again. You were mostly catatonic anyway. I saw the new cuts and when I sent you out those few times I looked for that switchblade of yours. Never did find it; I'd never have pegged you at being smart at anything, but you hid that fucker well.

I came up to get you when I went on my search one day. I kept the shades down to hide the ever-growing dome but you lifted them and I found you just... Staring at it. No freakout, no panicking. It was as if you knew exactly what it was, but you claimed not to know at all. That was the first smile I'd seen from you in months. That knowing fucking smirk you wear. I let you stay upstairs for a while, even let you outside. We'd never seemed so civilised, but eventually you wanted to go back to your room. It must've been discomfort at being out. It had been your room for ages. At least you ate before you went back in though.

And so here we are, watching that... thing coming closer slowly. You still say you don't know what it is, but you do. You have this excitement about you, like nothing can get you down. I can't even take my aggression out on you. You'd probably smile through it, you fucking masochist. I've noticed you eating too, and your arms are clean. Are you shaving too? You look almost healthy.

Well, I suppose I'll have to wait and see what all the excitement is about. In the meantime though, I need another drink.

**Well, that's it guys! The end of another shitty story I concocted purely out of boredom. I really hope you enjoyed it and didn't find it too creepy or perverse. I had fun writing it, and just in case, I will not be continuing this story, not even in a sequel. I guess I don't want to fuck it up or something like that. Anyhow, bye for now!**


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